


Brilliant

by paox



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, More tags to be added, Superpowers, Urban Fantasy, Villains, as he does in every fic i write, bc they love each other a lot, borderline saboace tbh, code names, dystopian au, sabo gets fucked up a LOT in this one, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paox/pseuds/paox
Summary: Sabo has grown up in a world where superheroes are good and villains are bad. At sixteen, he runs away from home to start a new life as a hero, and to escape an abusive father. But not all is as it seems. Whisked into the dangerous world of villainy, he struggles to stay alive, and along the way he meets two brothers who change his life forever. Is he truly meant to be a hero?





	1. Bug Boy

**Author's Note:**

> new fic bc i hate myself   
> enjoy u fucks ily <3
> 
> also this is for @s-thebluegentleman (https://s-thebluegentleman.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! she doesn't have ao3 but i love her and shes awesome and sejbdkjbkaj ily bby <3 thank you for all the support!

**** Sabo slams the door shut behind him, suitcase scraping along the concrete at his side, and turns on his heel to storm away from the house with rage smouldering in his gut. It feels like a heavy weight is settling on his shoulders. He can hear the door open behind him as he’s halfway down the path, can hear his father yelling after him, but he doesn’t even turn around. The man can threaten Sabo all he likes - it won’t break his resolve. 

At the back of his mind, he feels his power brewing. There are bugs beginning to congregate around him, following him, skittering after him along the stone path. He forces them back. Now really isn’t the best time to lose control. Sabo forces himself to keep moving, tuning out the sound of his father’s angered ranting, shoving the hand that isn’t dragging his suitcase into his pocket. Above, the sky churns a dark, dull grey as storm clouds begin to roll in from the south. 

“I’m warning you, Sabo-”

Sabo’s control cracks. He whirls around just in time to see a dozen hornets, larger than they would be if they were natural, flying into Outlook’s face. Each is about as long as Sabo’s hand. His father falls back, yelling out, hands over his face. Sabo doesn’t bother to call them off. The anger inside him spurs them on and he turns on his heel again, reaching the garden gate and stepping out into the street without looking back. He can hear his father’s yells of pain all the way down the street, and he relishes in them. 

Out of all of the ways his sixteenth birthday could have turned out, he hadn’t expected this. 

Anger tears at the thin restraint he has managed to force over his power. Sabo winces as he feels a trail of ants creep onto his shoe and he sends them away, giving orders to all the bugs nearby to stay out of his way. Only Tiny stays near him, fluttering around his left ear. Sabo sighs, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep the little critter out of the way even if he tried. It’s almost like she’s imprinted on him. He shoots the dragonfly a look, but she doesn’t budge, and after a few minutes she settles down on the top of his head. 

The train station is a twenty minute walk away. It takes ten. Sabo focuses on moving, putting one foot in front of the other, walking quickly through the streets until the large, marble building comes into view. His sneakers are a little too small, and there’s a dull ache stretching up the arches of his feet. He ignores it. His suitcase bumps on the uneven road and he lifts it to carry it up the steps to the station, ignoring the stares he gets for the insect resting on his head. Soon he’ll be too far away from this godforsaken town to care.

He barely manages to catch the train before it leaves. Their town is on the end of the trainline and he buys a ticket to take him all the way to the other end, not even checking where that might be. He doesn’t care anymore. It’s late, the sun long-since set, and the carriage he clambers into is empty. Methodically, almost robotically, he stows away his suitcase, sits down and listens to the train doors slam. After a few minutes, the train moves off, and he watches his only home fade away into the distance in the window. He doesn’t move for a long time. He keeps his eyes on the train station for as long as he can until, just like that, the train rounds a corner and it’s gone. 

With a sigh, Sabo looks away from the window, curling his knees up and hugging them to his chest in the window seat. He buries his face in them and releases a long, shaky breath. It’s over. Home is far, far behind him and he’s never going back there, not even if it kills him. He thinks of his father, who is probably nursing some bad stings right now, and the image makes him laugh a little. The noise doesn’t really sound like a laugh, and in the silent carriage, it sounds too loud. He shuts his mouth quickly.

So, what now? He can’t even begin to think about it. It hits Sabo that he might have just done the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life, and he finds that he can’t make himself regret it. Maybe the regret will come later. For now, he can barely take it in. He actually did it. He actually got the nerve to run away from home, to attack his father and take off as he’s wanted to do for years. He’s… not sure how to feel about it. Happy? Anxious? Right now, he just feels numb. 

The train rumbles along the tracks, and the sound of it soothes Sabo. He rests his head against the window, chin still on his knees. Outside, the sky is growing dark. The lights inside the carriage are soft and warm, and he feels - at least, for now - content. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulls out his ticket, holding it up to the light, squinting to make out the printed letters. 

_ SINGLE - UNDER 18 - 12/12/93, 16:54 _ _   
_ _ BROCKTON BAY _

Brockton Bay. A part of Sabo swells with excitement, with anticipation. Brockton Bay may be one of the most dangerous cities in the country, but it’s also the city with the highest Parahuman population. It is filled with people just like Sabo - heroes and villains and rogues, people with powers, people who can teach him how to control his own. It will be a place where he can start a new life, away from the hatred of his father, the ignorance of his home town. It will be his place to finally do what had, until now, seemed impossible. 

He’s going to become a hero. 

A  _ hero _ . The thought sets his blood boiling. He can really be a hero, like Glory Girl and the Joker and Lady Nico and Legend. He can fight for the good of the people, to protect them from the villains infecting the streets: Militia, Necromancer, even the likes of Kingpin. Even that monster’s  _ name _ scares Sabo a little. Everybody has grown up hearing horror stories about Kingpin. But… if he’s going to be a hero, he’s going to have to face people like that, and Sabo sets his resolve to at least  _ try _ .

Suddenly feeling a lot less weary, Sabo gets up and crosses the carriage to the luggage rack, unzipping his suitcase and pulling out one of his blank notebooks and a pencil. Tiny is hovering around near one of the air vents, and Sabo smiles a little at the knowledge that he's going to have a friend when he’s at Brockton Bay. Sure, it's hardly a human friend, but it counts. Moving to sit back down, Sabo opens the notebook on his tray table and begins to write on the first page.

_ My name is Sabo Outlook. I am sixteen years old today. My father is a bad person. He is miles away from me right now. I am a parahuman. I can control bugs. I’m starting a new life.  _

They're all simply statement of fact, pieces of information that he knows are true. But it is almost therapeutic to do this - to confirm that he really is leaving. Sabo jots down,  _ I’m going to be a superhero _ , as well, and the words make him smile. He’s going to help people. He’s going to change the way the world is.

He starts a new line. 

_ Parahumans are rare. Not too rare - not how things used to be - but we’re hardly everywhere. I’ve never met another parahuman. I’ve researched them. Most of them have powers I could only dream of. And the majority of them are either heroes or villains. Most of these people reside in Brockton Bay.  _

_ A lot of normal people are scared of us parahumans. Or they hate us, and the violence hero/villain conflicts bring to their streets. But most normal people are in awe, I think. I don’t know why they would be. But it doesn’t change the fact that heroes are treated like celebrities, by the media and the people alike, and that’s-  _ he hesitates- _ not what I want. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t want to be given a fancy stage name and a shiny costume and I don’t want to have to parade in front of the press whenever I’m not fighting villains.  _

Sabo frowns for a moment, chewing the end of his pencil, before adding-

_ But I’m willing to do it if it means helping people _ . 

_ My father _

Sabo stops. Takes a deep breath. Forces himself to carry on writing, because this helps. Getting it all out on paper is helping him to clear his mind. And as much as he wants to forget that his father even exists...he has to do this. 

_ is one of those people who hates parahumans. I was never meant to have powers. 95% of people don’t. But I’ve got bad luck. I tried to keep it from him. I failed, and he d _

His hand is shaking. Sabo drops the pencil and closes his eyes, trying not to think about it, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him. Now isn’t the time for memories. He is abruptly acutely aware of who and where he is - he is a teenage runaway with a shitty costume in his suitcase and an even shittier power, on a train that is leading him to an uncertain future, away from the only home he has ever known. He feels… strangely alone. Strangely isolated. Like the only people who ever cared about him are far, far behind him. 

He picks up the pencil again, crosses out the last few lines, and starts writing again. 

_ My father didn’t care. I need to remember that. He didn’t care about me and I’m glad I got away and he can die for all I care.  _

Sabo writes the words three times, one after the other, in neat print. Somehow, he hopes his father can feel the anger he’s feeling - the disappointment and the fear and the conflict. God knows the bastard deserves it. 

Outside the window, the sky is black now. Sabo sighs, stands, walks across the empty carriage and puts his journal back into his suitcase. The lenses of the mask of his costume, folded up and tucked inside, wink up at him in the light before he zips the case back up. The train rumbles steadily beneath him. Sabo crosses back to his seat and curls up, head resting on the window, closing his eyes. 

He can sense half a dozen spiders in the air vent above him. Eyes closed, Sabo makes them organise into a perfect circle, before instructing them all to march clockwise, maintaining the shape. Their tiny bodies are easy to control. They circle high above him in the vent, around and around and around, and Sabo feels himself falling into an uneasy sleep. Brockton Bay grows closer with every passing minute.

He dreams of spiders and hornets and masks. 

* * *

Militia moves silently. After years on the streets, you learn to do that, especially in a city like this. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, he keeps his head down and keeps to the shadows, moving north. Two men in PRT uniforms are strolling up the other side of the street and he reaches up, pulling his hood down over his face and slouching. Can’t risk them recognising him.

It’s been like this for him for a long time. 

The machinery in his backpack only adds to the heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Militia stays slouched, shoulders hunched, and he keeps to the shadows all the way up the street. His signature bandana is gone from his face - it would be too telling to wear it in public. He is moving north, up through the city to the docks, and as he slips through the grimy streets, he passes body after motionless body; slumped in alleyways, splayed out in the street. Nobody moves to pick them up, to give them a proper burial. Death is a common thing in Brockton Bay. 

Rubbing his forehead to stave of an oncoming headache, Militia hikes his backpack up on his shoulders. He was unlucky in the power lottery, getting into this situation because of it, but at least his physical appearance is still the same. He could have ended up like Sundancer, which would have been a disaster. After five years of searching for him, the police still haven’t managed to find him, a fact which Militia is proud of. Heaven knows they’ve tried. 

There’s a poster on a wall and as he passes it, Militia slows to a stop, raising an eyebrow. The poster is covered in rain, tucked away down a sidestreet, but the words on it are unmistakable, beneath a strange symbol like a cross, bisected by a crescent. 

_ New Wave - Recruiting Now _

Militia clenches his jaw. They’re certainly not being subtle. If he was one of them, he would berate them for their tactlessness - but he’s… a family friend, not really one of their team, so he refrains from it. It’s not his authority to tell them what to do. With a sigh, he moves on, trying to keep his power under wraps. When he’s tired like this, it has a tendency to go slightly out of control unless he concentrates on keeping it in. Being a Tinker  _ sucks _ sometimes. 

He’s close to home, now. The docks loom through the mist in front of him and he speeds up, boots hitting the concrete. It’s starting to rain. Paranoid about his machinery getting wet (even though it’s waterproof), Militia breaks into a run and sprints the rest of the way to the base, hood pulled low over his eyes. The air stinks of oil, and the sky is black by now, lit only by the dull, copper glow the streetlights below. His limbs ache with the cold. 

Militia finally reaches the base just as he feels himself begin to shiver, clothes soaked with rain that is now pouring down in sheets. Brockton Bay is hardly known for its amazing weather, sure, but this is ridiculous. He unlocks the doors with cold, shaking fingers, stepping into the warehouse and locking the doors behind him. Inside it is cold but dry, and he shrugs off his hood. He doesn’t dare to put down the bag yet, though. You have to stay on your toes in an area like the docks .

Stretching, Militia crosses the wide ground-floor room and jogs up the stairs into the loft. Above the main warehouse are a cluster of rooms, packed together under a roof of corrugated iron. Sundancer is at the top of the stairs, coming down, and they meet in the middle. She’s in costume, her mask seeming to glow in the dark, and Ace can just about make out her piercing eyes through the visor. 

“Militia,” she nods. “You look cold. Should I…?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” he says, a little bit too quickly. He doubts anybody could blame him for not wanting to get too close to her power. “You heading out, Koala?”

“That’s Sundancer, when I’m in costume.”

“Ah, shit-” he mentally hits himself. “Sorry. I forget.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs it off. “And yeah. Gotta meet up with somebody. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you gonna be back tonight?” 

She puts a hand on her hip. “I dunno. Trust me, kid, I’m not going to die.”

“Kid?!” Militia ruffles. “You’re, like, a year older than me.”

“Two years.” Even through the visor, she catches him wink. “Anyway, I should be off. See you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Militia turns on his heel and carries on up the stairs, listening to Sundancer as she moves down and away from him. Trust her to stay cheerful, even on nights like this, when the city feels like it’s going to crush them. The only person who could probably beat her for cheerfulness is-

Speak of the devil. 

Militia reaches the top of the stairs and the kid comes skidding out of a room to the left, whooping when he sees him and sprinting towards him. He isn’t in costume; he’s actually wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to Magnetism (and it’s about five times too big for the thirteen-year old) and a pair of sweatpants. Militia opens his arms and Tattletale jumps and throws himself into them, hitting him like a small cannonball. Militia grunts but laughs through it, spinning Tattletale around, feeling small, skinny arms wrap around him. 

Tattletale pulls his face back, grinning at him. “Ace!”

Ace blinks. Sometimes it takes somebody saying his real name to snap him out of Militia-mode. Letting Tattletale down, he smiles a little at the smaller teen. 

“Heya, Tattle- shit, sorry,  _ Luffy _ .”

Luffy grimaces a little. “You’re all wet. Law’s gonna kill me for getting his sweatshirt covered in rain water.”

“Is he here now?”

“Nah. Said he’d be back soon, though. He’s out looking Nami - she hasn’t reported back since last night.”

Ace rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but for Nami, that’s not long. She’s always disappearing like that.”

“I know. Law was just…” Luffy shrugs. “Could feel that he was really… paranoid tonight, I guess. It gave me a headache.”

“Luffy…” Ace frowns, shrugging off his backpack. “You shouldn’t use your power so much.”

“I can’t help it!” Luffy defends. “Look, maybe I can turn off the information and stuff, but I can’t turn off the feelings. They just… come. From everywhere. All the time.” 

“I know-” Ace messes up his hair. “But unless you want to pass out again, try not to pay any attention to it all, okay? All that information coming into your lil’ idiot brain must be tiring-”

Luffy elbows him in the guts. “I know you got hit earlier, my power told me. I’m gonna hit you again!”

Ace laughs through a little wheeze. “I thought I just told you not to use your power.”

“Oh, yeah.” Luffy picks his nose uninterestedly, apparently bored with the conversation, wandering back into the kitchen. “I forgot. Oh well.”

“Brat,” Ace murmurs after him, fondly, before going to grab his backpack and making his way into his room. 

‘MILITIA’ is printed on the door. It’s cold inside the bedroom, but one of Koala’s little suns is sitting in a jar beside his bed, spreading sparse warmth through the small room. Ace smiles. Trust her to do something like that. She’s thoughtful in a way Luffy isn’t. Changing into a pair of loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, Ace sits on his bed and, by the light of the mini-sun, plays with a few pieces of wiring. He threads them together into a parallel circuit without even having to think about it. Scraps of metal and bolts litter the floor. It looks like the room of any typical tinker. 

Contraptions are piled up in a corner, scrapped or unfinished or both. Ace knows, deep down, that all of them are probably valuable, but… Empire is a villain group. They commit crimes regularly and Ace gets a sixth of the payout. They’re hardly struggling for cash, and he doesn’t like the idea of selling his own tech unless it’s necessary. 

Sighing, he hurls the little knot of wires at the wall and flops back onto his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. Something strange has been brewing in this city for a while. He can feel it well. He knows Luffy must be able to, too, and the rest of the group most likely. It’s almost as though something new is just around the corner for them all. More than ever, Ace constantly feels like he’s being watched. The rest of Empire must feel the same. 

But… the winds are always changing in Brockton Bay. The best Ace - no,  _ Militia _ \- can do is attempt to navigate them. 

 


	2. Heroes

**** The train shudders to a halt. Sabo jolts awake, head snapping up, as people around him begin to move and stand from their seats, flooding towards the door. He blinks sleep out of his eyes, disorientated. More people must have entered the carriage when he was asleep. Outside, the sun is shining brightly and Sabo can see a busy train station platform. There is a sign on the wall that reads, ‘BROCKTON BAY’.

A jolt of excitement rushes through him. He stands, tugging his sweatshirt down from where it has risen up in his sleep, and slips out into the aisle, moving towards his suitcase. His legs feel wobbly with sleep. Out on the platform, somebody is blowing a whistle, telling people to hurry off the train. Tiny flutters near his head, drawing stares from the other commuters, and Sabo finds that he doesn’t care. Grabbing his suitcase off the luggage rack, he extends the handle and steps out into the station, dragging it at his side. 

Immediately, he is hit with a rush of cold. Brockton Bay is a northern city, known for bad weather, and the chill makes Sabo shiver as it seeps through his sweatshirt and freezes him to the bone. The air smells like oil and gasoline, and it’s damp like it was raining all night, moisture lingering in the wind. He takes a deep breath, makes sure Tiny is still nearby, and strides through the station along with the tide of commuters, letting himself be pulled out onto the street by the flow. 

Outside the large double-doors to the station, it feels even colder. Sabo stands there for a moment, in front of a busy street, and has no idea what to do. What now? Which direction should he go? He feels abruptly, horribly panicked, alone and unknowing in a city he’s never seen before. Is this how it feels to move someplace new? A small part of him feels like he would rather be at home-

_ No _ . He forces the thought out of his head. No. He would rather be in hell than back home. With a new resolve burning in his chest, Sabo turns and starts off to the left, pacing down the sidewalk resolutely. Huge skyscrapers tower in every direction, making him feel extraordinarily small. The sky is a dark, gloomy grey, and cars screech past on the road beside the station. Sabo passes a lamppost and plastered to it is a poster reading, ‘ _ PARAHUMANS ARE TO REPORT TO THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE WARDS IMMEDIATELY _ ’.

Sabo stops walking. The Wards - the government funded group of superheroes who protect this city. They’re the people he aspires to join. He hesitates, considering finding their address and going to them. Surely they could offer him some place to stay? Shelter and guidance? The idea is more than tempting. But at the same time… he can imagine going to them now, and explaining his situation, and the thought of that makes his stomach curl.  _ ‘Hi, my name is Sabo. I’m from halfway across the country. My father was a little harsh so I ran away. By the way, my power is controlling bugs. Practically useless, I know. _ ’

Okay, so maybe not the Wards. Not yet, anyway. Maybe, if he can find a place to stay, Sabo can get a little experience - he can go out in costume, get the feel of these streets to start. Maybe he can even try to take down a few villains. It would be good to come to the Wards with a bit of experience under his belt at the very least. He decides to stick to that plan for now and sets off again, resolving his mind to pretend he never saw the poster. It’s hardly the law to report to the wards, right?

Sabo walks a few blocks north, through the hustle and bustle of the central city. Brockton Bay, he soon realises, is...not how he had expected it to be. Sure. the tall buildings and the wide roads are stunning, shocking in their sheer size. But everything else is strange. Off. He had expected cleanliness and grandeur, almost, and… there is nothing of the sort. The people are grimy and sullen, heads down, moving hurriedly, and the crowds are occasionally split by police and people in Parahuman Regulation Team uniforms. The PRTs put Sabo on edge. He feels like he should be hiding from them, even though he doesn’t know why. 

When he’s about a mile from the station, there is suddenly a loud commotion behind Sabo. He turns around, subconsciously moving into the shadows a little. A little ways behind him, a policeman has his hand wrapped around the wrist of a skinny little kid who is obviously struggling to escape. 

“No! Let me go! I didn’ do anythin’!”

“Give it up, kid, we know who you are-”

The kid struggles harder. He looks twelve or thirteen at most and his voice is shrill with panic. “No!”

Before Sabo has even thought about it, he has stepped out into the light and his hand is on the police officer’s arm and his fist is in the man’s face. It’s not a hard hit but the asshole reels back, grunting with pain. People in all directions scatter, yelling, and Sabo’s blood goes cold. Fuck. 

The kid looks up at Sabo wide-eyed. His sandy blonde hair falls into his eyes. He looks terrified. Sabo reaches out a hand - to do what, he doesn’t know - and the child flinches back. Turning on his heel, he sprints away down the street, away from Sabo and out of sight, skinny form disappearing around a corner. Sabo stands for a moment, stock-still and stunned, before the sound of approaching policemen startles him out of his shock. 

Fuck. That was stupid. 

A dark shape - another police officer - breaks through the crowd. The first one is nursing a bloody nose, hand on his radio. Somebody puts a hand on Sabo’s arm and he bursts into action, tearing himself from their grip and taking off down the street. His too-small trainers make his feet ache as they pound on the concrete. Fear hits him hard. No. If they catch him now, he’ll be sent back home, and his father will kill him, surely, he’ll rip him apart-

He turns off into an alleyway and sprints through the shadows, running as fast as he can force his body to go. His footsteps echo. He can hear the pounding of the boots of the police behind him, chasing him, rounding into the alleyway just as he turns around and out of the other end. Making a split second decision, he forces himself into an alcove beside the alleyway, squeezing in under a set of metal stairs, clutching his suitcase to his chest. He barely breathes as he hears the police thunder past - two or three of them, holding batons and guns, chasing him. They don’t see him. He doesn’t dare to move an inch until they disappear down the street. 

_...fuck. _

Still pressed into the hollow beneath the metal stairs, Sabo slumps back against the wall, eyes wide. He hugs his suitcase tightly to his chest, sliding down until he hits the floor and ends up crumpled there, breathing hard. His knuckles burn with pain. He feels the adrenaline leaving him slowly, seeping out of his body. His ears are ringing. 

Hoards of spiders skitter around his feet. Sabo can’t muster the will to send them away. He feels Tiny whirring near his ears, wings a blur, obviously sensing his distress.  _ Fuck. _ Sabo realises, heart sinking, that he hadn't even been in the city a day and he's already committed a crime. Let's just hope they didn't get a good look at his face. Heroes are hardly people who get on the bad side of the police. 

A little voice in the back of his head says,  _ yes, but heroes help people. And that little kid obviously needed help. Isn't that being a hero? _

Sabo’s brain is too muddled to think about it properly. He needs to get moving, he knows, before they come back this way. He struggles to his feet - his legs feel numb, like they've been drenched in ice cold water. Police sirens wail through the streets, echoing up towards him, and Sabo hopes that something worse has happened so they will be distracted. He doubts his stunt would call for a police car. 

The spiders are everywhere - there are ants too, and cockroaches and bluebottles and moths. Sabo can feel them all around him, in every direction. He is acutely aware of every bug for a mile around and the sudden onslaught of information and sensation nearly makes him fall back against the wall. Fuck. He knows he needs to calm down and he tries to reel his power in, taking deep breaths. Tiny - simple-minded and familiar - is a soothing presence as she flits around his head. Focusing on her, Sabo eventually manages to keep his power from going out of control. 

By the time he does, a relatively long amount of time has passed. Sabo is pretty sure at this point that the police aren't going to still be searching for him, but he still keeps his hood up and his head down as he slips back onto the street, one hand still dragging his suitcase. Every passerby feels like somebody watching him. Each second makes him feel more wary. The excitement of coming here has worn off.

This city… there's something wrong about it. Something almost evil. Sabo intends to find out what. 

* * *

_ A kid wanders into the shop. It's one of the establishments on the richer end of the boardwalk, the kind of place where people like him shouldn't be. The cashier narrows her eyes at him as he trails dirt through the entryway, making his way over to a rack of $200 coats and looking through them, grubby fingers dirtying the white leather. She glares, like she’s trying to burn holes through him with her disapproving eyes. He ignores her. _

_ He looks ten or eleven, maybe, and he’s very small. His scruffiness stands out in the staunch, white cleanliness of this place. The cashier steps around the front counter and marches towards him, a sickly sweet smile on her face that doesn’t match her aggressive posture. He continues to ignore her, tugging at a price tag labeled with a sum that he most likely hasn’t even dreamt of laying eyes on. She knows his type - street kids who get overconfident, who come to places like this to get a kick out of getting chased out by security. It’ll be a hassle to get him out without disturbing the  _ real _ customers. _

_ She coughs pointedly, crossing her arms as she stands behind him. He continues to ignore her, until she puts a hand on his arm. “Excuse me.” _

**_Twenty-eight. Grew up on the richer side of town. Has never been in a fight. Doesn’t want to be in a fight. Lives with boyfriend. Boyfriend is cheating. Boyfriend is abusive. Boyfriend is thirty, boyfriend is an alcoholic, boyfriend grew up with an adoptive father, father was-_ **

_ The kid shakes his head firmly, stopping the flow of information about the cashier. Fuck. Out of all of the powers he could have gotten, this is one of the worst ones - information? Really? All he wants to fight with is his fists, not knowledge. Knowledge is useless when you’re trying to stay alive. It’s stupid, anyway, and it gives him headaches. Stupid power.  _

_ She shakes his arm, turning him to face her. “Excuse me, but I think you should leave.” _

_ Luffy raises an eyebrow. “Wha?” _

_ “I said, brat-” her tone is clipped and tense.  _ **_Doesn’t want other customers to hear. Afraid to get fired. It’s hard to get work. Her boyfriend will be angry. He might leave. They live near the docks. The docks are cold this time of year. They first moved in last summer-_ **

_ “Ugh,  _ stop _ ,” Luffy mumbles to himself.  _

_ “What?!” _

_ “Nothing, nothing-” he rubs his forehead. “Look, lady, leave me alone.” _

_ He’s got a slight New York accent. She wrinkles her nose.  _ **_Thinks people from out of town are irritating. Doesn’t like change._ ** _ “Look, kid, if you don’t leave I’m going to call security.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “What do you mean, ‘why’?!” _

_ Luffy blinks. “I mean, like, why should I leave? I didn’t do anything, right?” _

_ “Your...kind shouldn’t be in here,” the cashier hisses. “I doubt you could even afford to look at that jacket. Go back to the docks, little-” _

_ Suddenly, there’s a huge crash from the front of the shop - smashing glass. The cashier screams, hands over her head, and Luffy turns towards the noise with mild interest. A body has been thrown through the glass shopfront - a preteen, with dark hair and angry eyes, scrambling to his feet in a pile of shattered glass. Two PRT officers storm into the shop, guns raised towards him, and he raises his arms in front of his chest like he can deflect the bullets with his bare skin. _

_ A rush of information floods into Luffy’s head all at once.  _ **_Foreign. Underweight. Scared - terrified. They’ve been searching for him for a long time. Powerful. Very, very powerful._ **

_ “Put your hands up!” _

_ One of the PRT officers edges around the boy, gun still pointed at him. “Down on your knees - I said, down on your knees!” _

_ The boy is trembling, with anger or fear. Both. “I’ll use my power. Put your guns down, or I’ll use my power, I swear-” _

_ There’s a loud crack as one of the guns goes off. It misses the boy by inches as he rolls to the side, and all of the lights in the building flicker out at once. Luffy edges closer to the older boy in the dark and, as the PRT officers are distracted, grabs him by the hand and pulls him towards the exit. The other struggles for half a second before following, keeping pace with Luffy as he sprints out of the door and into the street. They run for what feels like hours - down the boardwalk, into a sidestreet, through the myriad of alleyways and narrow backstreets to the docks. Luffy doesn’t get tired easily- he used to run around the city a lot, back home - but when they finally come to a stop, both he and the boy are gasping for breath.  _

_ They end up stopping in a backstreet, a few blocks from the docks, hidden in the shadows and out of the view of any PRTs who could be searching for them. Sunlight filters down on them from gaps in the buildings high above. Luffy leans against the wall, panting, and the strange kid slumps down and ends up curled in a ball on the ground, back pressed against a rotten, metal skip. Neither of them speaks for a moment. For a while, the only sound in the alleyway is fast breathing.  _

_ Eventually, Luffy’s new companion pulls himself to his feet. “Why did you help me?” _

**_Accent. He’s south-American. Hasn’t been in this country for long. Things were bad where he used to live. Very bad. Knows seventeen different swear words in Portuguese-_ **

_ Stupid brain. Stupid power.  _

_ “I’m Luffy! Hi!” Luffy extends a hand to the other boy. “I saw you got into some shit.” _

_ “You heard them. I’m…” He struggles for the word. “Podero- powerful. Too powerful. They’re hunting for me, even in this country. You should go.” _

_ Luffy pouts. “People hunted for me, too, back home. It doesn’t mean you’re bad.” _

_ “It… doesn’t?” _

_ “Nah!” Luffy sits down on the cold concrete ground, gesturing for the other boy to do the same. He does, hesitantly. “It just means they think you’re different, and they think it’s wrong. And they’re stupid. So you shouldn’t listen to them.” _

_ “I shouldn’t?” _

_ “Of course not!” Luffy puts his hands behind his head. “I never do.” _

_ Slowly, the boy relaxes a little. “Do you live here?” _

_ “I didn’t until a while ago. Ran away from home. This place is pretty cool.” _

_ “Why did you run away?” _

_ “Meh. I dunno. It was good at home, but… I wanted something new! An adventure, y’know?”  _

_ The boy blinks at him. “...No?” _

_ “Nevermind.” Luffy laughs. “Anyway, where are you from?” _

_ “Brazil… “ A sad sigh. “Ran away too. Things got too bad at home.” _

_ “Family?” _

_ “No. The g-government. Don’t like gifted people, in my country.” _

_ “Gifted people?” _

_ “You call them para...para…” _

_ “Parahumans?” _

_ “Parahumans, yes.” _

_ “Oh.” Luffy frowns. “That sucks. They sound like dicks.” _

_ The other boy lets out a little laugh. “They are. But… I got away.” _

_ “I’m glad.” Luffy scoots a little closer. It’s starting to get dark, and the streets are cold. “Are you gonna tell me your name?” _

_ The boy stiffens, then curls up tight, hugging his knees. He shakes his head rapidly. His breathing quickens up. “They know my name. I can’t… I can’t tell anybody. Can’t let them find me.” _

_ Luffy wrinkles his nose, reaching out to press himself into the boy’s side. “Do you want a new name?” _

_ “A new name?” _

_ “I mean, like, starting fresh. New country, new name, right?” _

_ “...Right?” _

_ “Yeah, right!” Luffy giggles. “Okay, new name… what about… Yasopp?” _

_ A tiny laugh. “No.” _

_ “Too bad. I know a cool guy called Yasopp.” Luffy thinks for a moment. “Ben?” _

_ “I… no.” _

_ “Um… Lucky? That’s a cool one.”  _

_ Another little laugh. “I don’t think it fits. Not for me.” _

_ “Fair enough.” Luffy sighs. “We’ll get one eventually. But… I did kinda wanna ask something.” _

_ “What is it?” _

_ “You said they were hunting you, right? The PRTs?” _

_ “The people with guns?” _

_ “Yep, them… so, why? What’cha do?” _

_ The other ruffles a little. “I didn’t do anything. When I first came to this country, they asked me if I had a power. I said yes. I thought your people didn’t… hate us. But then they gave me a test, to see how strong my power was.” _

_ “Ooh!” Luffy perks up. “On the number scale? One to twelve?”  _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “And what did ya get?” _

_ A tiny whisper. “Eleven.” _

_ “Whoa!” Luffy’s eyes go wide. “Wow! That’s really high! No wonder they’re hunting you! They probably want to kill you. Or make you join the Wards. ” _

_ “The… Wards?” _

_ “Assholes. Ignore them - I do.” Luffy sits back, apparently not willing to change the subject. “Wow… eleven! That’s ace! My power-” _

_ “You’ve got a power?” _

_ “Yeah! And it’s only a seven, and that’s pretty powerful according to dad-” _

_ Luffy suddenly goes very quiet. A tense silence falls quickly and absolutely. It feels like a cold gust of wind has rushed through the alley and stolen any warmth that the conversation had previously held. _

_ The boy looks up at Lufffy. “Are you okay?” _

_ “Yeah… yeah, I am.” Luffy nuzzles into his side, over-affectionate as always. “Just miss dad. A lot. I don’t want to go back, but… maybe someday, when I’m a supervillain, we can meet again!” _

_ “You want to be a supervillian?” _

_ Luffy nods eagerly. “Yep! What about you?” _

_ “I… I don’t know yet.” He sniffs. “I think I don’t want to be alone anymore.” _

_ “That’s a good goal.” Luffy smiles. “And you’re not alone! You got me.” _

_ His head snaps up. “I do?!” _

_ “Of course you do!” Luffy grins warmly. “I don’t wanna be alone, either.” _

_ “You don’t want me as a f-friend.” A thick gulp. “I’ll get you in trouble. Get you killed. You should just stay away from me.” _

_ “Maybe.” Luffy looks up, up through the darkness of their shaded spot to the light pouring in from the sky above. “But I’m gonna be your friend anyway. Trust me, they used to hunt dad a lot more than they hunt you.” _

_ “Who’s your dad?” _

_ Luffy grins. “A supervillain.” _

_ “Oh…” _

_ “Anyway, that doesn’t matter.” Luffy claps his hands. “Have you chosen a name yet?” _

_ “I- I mean, not really, but- something you said earlier-” He takes a deep breath. “Ace. I like Ace.” _

_ “Okay, then you’re Ace!” Luffy beams. “It’s decided! And I like it, by the way, nice name!” _

_ For the first time, Ace turns his face to him. A flood of information pushes its way into Luffy’s head all at once;  _ **_happy. Shocked, but happy. He’s made a friend. Can’t remember the last time he did that. Scared of being alone. Scared of this country. Scared of the government. Tired of being scared. Wants to get stronger. Powerful. Very powerful. Almost too powerful_ ** _ - _

_ Luffy forces the flood back. “Anyway, can you show me your power?” _

_ Ace cracks a little smile. “I can do more than show you.” _

\--

“Luffy!”

Luffy’s head snaps up as he jolts awake. His forehead is throbbing where it was resting on the tabletop - fuck, he fell asleep at the breakfast table again. Ace is glaring at him, hand on his hip. There’s something wet on Luffy’s cheek.  **Milk** , his power tells him.  **And some pieces of cereal** . 

“You stayed up late? Again?”

“Heheheh, about that…” Luffy shifts guiltily. “Nami came back, and Koala. And we ended up watching all the Die Hard movies. Again.”

Ace crosses his arms. “And you got to sleep when?” 

**7am** . “4am,” Luffy answers innocently. “It wasn’t too late, promise!”

Ace narrows his eyes at him. “Why don’t I believe you.”

“It’s true!”

“How are you supposed to be a hyper-alert supervillain, ready for anything, when you’re falling asleep eating breakfast?”

Luffy pouts, crossing his arms. “Stingy…”

Ace sighs, sitting down opposite Luffy and rubbing away the milk on his cheek with his sleeve. “Anyway, you’ve been asleep so you didn’t hear the news. Antlers - guy from the Undersiders, y’know? - apparently got into a scrape with the police. He’s only a little kid but they recognised him out of costume, in the street.”

“I like that kid!” Luffy straightens up, worried. “What happened to him?”

“Some random guy stepped in, decked the police officer and let Antlers run. Nobody knows who he is - not a villain, we don’t think. Is your power telling you anything?”

Luffy concentrates for a few seconds. Nothing. “Nah. Sucks that the one time I actually wanna use the stupid thing, it doesn’t work.”

Ace laughs. “And that’s why you were unlucky to get a Thinker-class power. I mean, seriously.  _ You _ .”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re not really the type to do a lot of thinking. You do a lot more punching than thinking.”

“Oi!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Luffy sighs, swiping at his still sticky cheek. “Fine, whatever…”

“Alright.” Ace puts his elbows on the table. “Tonight, we’re all going to do a job.”

“Ooh! What?” 

“We all decided while  _ you  _ were asleep-”

“Just tell me!” 

“Okay, okay!” Ace chuckles, winding his bandana around his fingers. “We’re going to try to take down Kidwin. You know, that rogue hero who’s been causing trouble for the Undersiders for a while now?”

“I know the guy.” Luffy frowns. “Why tonight?”

“He’s been spotted a lot downtown. Nami’s going to lure him out, and we can take him down easily, so long as we don’t make too much of a ruckus. I mean, the guy’s Blaster-class. He’s hardly the best at melee combat, and he doesn’t have the Wards at his back.”

“Okay!” Luffy agrees cheerily. “I can go with that.”

“Good.” Ace stands. “But until then, you’re sleeping. Got it?”

“You’re not my dad!”

“Yeah, but he’s not here, so I’m the second best thing.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Brat.”

“Prick!”

(But, of course, Luffy ends up going to sleep anyway.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated! <3


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